Hair
by Katie Mae
Summary: Anthony Thin Man explains a bit about his hair fetish, hence the title. A smidge of AnthonyDylan. Rating due to mention of death.


Disclaimer: I don't own Charlie's Angels, the Thin Man/Anthony, or anything else you recognize. 

Note: This fic spans both movies. I am adding some things that weren't in the movies, and changing some things to make them from Anthony's point of view. Also, I did take a line directly from the first movie, the line that Knox says about kissing Dylan while they're in Carmel. 

Hair 

By Katie Mae

        Hair.

        Don't ask me why I have a hair fetish. I don't really know. All I know is that whenever I kill anyone, I steal a lock of that person's hair. I guess it's a kind of memento. Each lock of hair stands for a sin, a filthy sin that has yet to be forgiven.

The fiery redheaded Angel was different. I didn't kill her. I don't want to now. Her hair, well, I stole it because it was enticing. That night in the alley, the blonde and the Asian both had their hair pulled back, so it would have been more difficult to pull it out even if I had wanted to. But every time the red hair would come near my nose, I would be flooded with feeling and sensation; my senses became sharper and dulled at the same time. I could see the way it moved and flowed, full of life and body, not unlike the lithe, catlike movements of the Angels themselves as they fought me. I needed to keep those senses, because I knew that I had the big drag race coming up. So I stole from her. To this day, I still keep that lock of flaming red hair with me, for whenever I need a pick-me-up.

Then there was Carmel, where I fought with the Asian known as Alex. I was so sure I would kill her that I ripped a lock of her hair from her head before the deed was done. Her hair, though sleek and smooth, didn't carry the same texture of the redhead's. I didn't dare try to sniff it, for fear of comparing it to the light, sweet, fruity scent that was the red hair in my pocket. As soon as the three women left the Mission, I threw the hair into the ocean. I was disgusted by it, and by my comparison. I was beginning to think that I might have been developing feelings for the beautiful red-haired Angel.

A few years later, I realized that I was changing. I killed a fellow assassin, Emmers, to save the life of a teenage boy and the Angels. Once again, I stole from the redhead, Dylan. The previous lock was losing its beauty and scent. I needed more. It was as if I had become addicted to the smell of Dylan; I was craving it, almost to the point of withdrawals. As soon as I had my prize, I was placated for the moment. It was then I realized that my feelings toward Dylan had certainly changed. The strange thing was the fact that the stole from me, as well. She took the medallion I had received from Mother Superior the day I arrived at the orphanage, when I was seven. 

Finally, I had my chance to act on my feelings—the fight atop the theatre next to where the premiere of _Maximum Extreme—2 _was going to play. I hadn't planned to fight then; I had simply wanted to watch, to observe. But then I saw that one of Dylan's friends was in serious trouble, so I felt that I had to help in order to gain Dylan's trust. After coming to Alex's aid, I saved the lovely Dylan from an early death by knocking Seamus O'Grady off the roof. Once I had pulled her to safety, I held her close to me, still furious of what O'Grady had tried to do to her. After venting my feelings with a guttural yell, I was unsure of what to do, so I simply let my mind take a rest and my body control my actions. I ran my fingers through her blazingly red hair, feeling her stiffen. She was waiting for the pull. Instead, I lowered my head to hers, placing a soft, slow kiss on her lips.

Oh, those lips. Knox had described them so well when he told Vivian and me about how he had seduced her, in order to keep her there so she couldn't interfere. They really were the "fullest, sweetest, most luscious lips I have ever kissed." And considering I hadn't kissed that many people in my life, that kiss was even more spectacular than I could ever have imagined.

Then I once again stole some of her soft, silky tresses. She had switched shampoos—the smell was so intoxicating, I yelled with delight. It took me a moment to notice that she had taken some of my hair. I watched her as she imitated my actions, smiling a small, sexy smile as she ran the hair across her cheeks and around her chin. 

I tried to say something, to use vocal chords that hadn't seen exercise since before my parents died in the fire at the circus. Before I could get the words out, however, I felt cold steel run through my body. Looking down, I realized I had been stabbed with my own sword. I knew that the only one who could have done this was Seamus O'Grady, since he had fallen off the roof with my sword. Stumbling back, I forgot about how close I was to the edge of the roof, and I fell. I could hear Dylan cry out as I presumably fell to my death. But now, I'd had a taste of her. Dylan wasn't getting away that easily.

A/N: Hey! Hope you liked! Gomen for making it so short! 

Not much in the way of Dylan/Anthony, I know. But I am currently working on a sequel that will have more in it, though I'm not sure if I should post it as a sequel or a second chapter. It doesn't really follow along the same lines as this one, which is why I'm having the dilemma. Oh, well. As my good friend says, "Learn from it, live by it, eat a cookie and GET OVER IT!!!"

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